Frozen in Time
by SolidScriptJess
Summary: In which everyone is born tattooed with a clock that ticks down to their death, and Lucy's is down to her last few seconds.
1. Chapter 1

On the day of her death, Lucy Heartfilia was running late.

In the crook of her slender arm was a bundle of fluttering pages that had spilt to the gum and grime slathered sidewalks of Magnolia twice already that morning. It was her first manuscript—hot off the press of her home printer—now stained with boot prints on chapters four and twelve, its pages jumbled out of succession—and she was already ten minutes late to the meeting with an editor. The coffee in her other hand was flying from its flimsy plastic lid and sloshing in a scalding mess across her skin and sleeve as she weaved around the throngs of commuters as fast as her heels would allow. Cursing, she hastily rolled up the sleeve of her cardigan to hide the stain, revealing the ticking analog clock tattooed on her forearm.

Green and glowing as bright as it had the day she was born, she hardly paid any mind to the numbers. She never did. Despite the fact that she would catch people glancing at her arms as she reached for something on the top shelf at the grocery store—peeking when she reached to shake a stranger's hand, as if the numbers on her skin told more about her personality than the lilting introductions falling past her lips—Lucy herself found doing so distasteful. Who was she to know when those around her would die? It was such a personal secret—a fact that let her see into the most pivotal moment of the life of any single person around her. In fact, if it were up to her, the no one would be born with the clocks.

So on instinct, she began to turn her eyes away. It had been years since she last _really_ looked at her clock, and back then she had still been allotted another sixty years to live.

But the glaring amount of zeroes glowing up at her made her jerk.

00yr 000d 00hr 00min 23sec.

Still stumbling along with legs that had melted away to Jello, Lucy watched with a gaping mouth as the last of her seconds ticked by, wondering just when her fate had changed. What decision did she make to have all of her time stolen away from her? Could she have done something to reverse it if she had been actively checking her clock? Had those around her known? And if so, for how long? And _why had they said nothing_.

She didn't know if she wished she had known earlier or not. The notion had its pros and cons. But she did find herself wishing that the moment before her death had been grander, like one of the death scenes in the novel piled up in her arm, where the main character had remembered the feel of her lover's caress and she smiled because she knew she had saved him. She wished she had felt fear soaking her veins, or the flush of relief for having lived a good, fulfilling life. She wished she had thought of loved ones.

Her death, however, was the anticlimactic burst of _nothingness_. She had no lover's lips to remember, no grand romance to be fond of; the entirety of her life surmounted to a cheap, first floor apartment filled with a torn couch, thrift-shop tables, and an ancient computer from which she had gruelled over her novel between two diner jobs; and her father, the only remaining loved one in her life, had died six months ago.

And so she thought of nothing and felt nothing as she stepped off the curb, not noticing the flow of people around her had stopped short at the walk light. She took a deep breath and found herself wishing that the air she had gulped in was a little fresher, rather than tainted with exhaust fumes.

All around her rose up a screeching chorus of car horns and shouts. Lucy's arm dropped limply to her side as she glanced around, only to find herself frozen in the middle of a crosswalk, a truck barreling straight towards her. As her heart seized up into her throat, she could have sworn she felt the last second begin to shift to zero on her arm. She kept her eyes straight forward, waiting for the impact, and taking in from the world all that she could in that last instant.

A pair of arms, hotter to the touch than any she had ever felt before, wrapped around her and tugged her out of the path of the headlights. Lucy tumbled down to the street in a tangle of limbs, but her head landed on the muscular cushion of a chest, a hand cradling the back of her head against the fall. For a moment, she had to struggle to wrangle air into her lungs as her heart tried to break free from her chest. Sweat that she hadn't registered before was now itching as it prickled over in her pores and rolled down the back of her neck. She was trembling, and unable to see clear.

"Hey." The person beneath her was beginning to sit up, though their arms stayed tight around her. "You alright? C'mon, look at me."

A hand, scorching against the flush of her skin, cupped her face and guided it up to force her to look into the stranger's burning onyx eyes. Again, she struggled to breathe.

"Talk to me. You okay?"

Unable to speak, Lucy merely pulled back and nodded. Now that she was at some distance away, she could see her savior was a boy with a mop of pink hair crowning over rough, tanned skin. The planes of his face were taut, jaw defined as it set his lips into a thin frown. And he was staring at her in a way she hadn't seen in years.

Swallowing the tight wad in her throat, Lucy looked down at her arm and saw the last second of her clock frozen halfway between a 1 and a 0.

He had stopped her clock.

* * *

 **Hey guys! This is a little idea that I came up with when I read a post on tumblr that I cannot remember for the life of me right now. I'm kind of satisfied with it being a one-shot right now, but I do have some ideas for continuing it if you guys want me to. Let me know what you think—should I continue it, or leave it as a one-shot?**

 **Don't forget to please review!**

 **-Jess**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, let me just say how** _ **amazing**_ **you guys are! I was not expecting the wonderful amount of feedback, and so every single review, follow, and favorite made me the happiest girl in the world! As you can tell, due to popular demand, I am back with a second chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Lucy was not the only one to notice her broken clock. Pressed flush against her, she could feel the boy's chest puff out with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes darted around at the onlookers who were worriedly peeking down at them before taking her arm into his grasp and roughly tugging the stained sleeve of her cardigan back down.

She struggled against his grip. "What're you—"

"Don't let them see it." His lips were brushing against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

An overweight, middle-aged man with grease-stained jeans lowly hugging his hips beneath the bulge protruding from the hem of his wife-beater was barreling towards the couple still sitting in the street. He was tugging up the back of his jeans by the belt loop, readjusting after having had just jumped out from the truck that had been about to hit Lucy.

"Y'allright?" This close up, Lucy could see a thick sheen of sweat gathering at his forehead where he had tugged off his hat. The headgear was now balled up into a meaty fist as he fanned himself with the bill. "I'm real sorry, but the light was green. You weren't supposta be there, ya know?"

Lucy opened her mouth to reassure the man, to tell him not to worry because all she had from the incident—thanks to her savior—was a set of scraped knees where her skirt had left her exposed, and a slightly twisted ankle. But before she could get the words out—

"She's fine." Her savior's voice was deep and curt, eyes hard. She could feel the hand that was still gripping her arm tighten.

Despite the finality of her savior's voice, the man before them still hesitated, hands worrying at the fabric of his hat. "Ya sure? Someone called an ambulance if ya wanna wait."

Just then, sirens burst through the air, coming from the hospital a few miles away. The boy's pink head snapped up, eyes wide with what seemed like panic. He cursed under his breath, and Lucy cocked her head to the side. What was his problem? Had he never heard an ambulance before?

"That's our cue to leave," he mumbled.

"Wha—"

Suddenly, the strong arms that had been supporting her were now hoisting her up and over his shoulder like a weightless sack. She gasped, the air being taken out of her as his shoulder dug into her abdomen, and scrambled to latch onto something to keep her balance—her hands found purchase in the faded material of the back of his plain, red T-shirt.

"H-Hey!" she screamed. "Put me down!"

She locked eyes with the truck driver for a second, him still nervously wringing his hat as he watched the pair through narrow eyes. Seeing the look of surprise and panic in her eyes, he took a step forward.

"Uh…."

But before the truck driver could do or say anything, Lucy's world was turned topsy-turvy as she was abruptly spun away—the boy holding her reassuring the truck driver with a cheerful, "She's fine, I got her, don't I?"—and then was spun around _again_ as the boy started to jog in the opposite direction of the scene.

"Wait!" Lucy cried, struggling not to moan at the dizzy spell she was having. "My meeting—my ankle—my _novel."_ Groaning, she slapped her hands against her face a couple times, beginning to squirm frantically in the boy's grasp, and ignoring the odd looks that she was definitely getting from the people they were running past. "Oh, Mavis, I'm so _late_! Please, you have to bring me back! I have a really important meeting—"

"Sorry, no can do." He tapped her once on the butt.

Heat erupted across her face, mouth floundering open for a heart-pounding moment. Then, with a small grunt, she kicked her leg to the side with as much force as she could muster. Her ankle connected sharply with the side of his head, and they both cried out—she had forgotten she had just twisted that ankle.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"For copping a feel, perv!" Out of both frustration and pain, she started pounding her fists against his back. "Now put—me— _down._ "

"No—ow—quit it!" Reaching behind him, he swatted her tiny hands away. "Would you cut it out? I'm trying to save you."

"Save me from _what?_ "

Lucy spotted the scaly white scarf wrapped tight around his neck and gave it a sharp yank, jerking his neck back as he sputtered out a choking noise.

" _Ow_ —okay, that's it."

Ducking into an alley containing only a rusty dumpster and a nest of rats, the boy heaved her off of his shoulder, setting her roughly on her feet. She winced, sucking in a sharp breath as her ankle buckled, and clawed at the bricks of the wall behind her to keep her balance.

"Alright, listen," he said, looming over her. He was only a few inches taller than her, but there in the dimness of the narrow alley, his eyes blazing with more animation than she'd ever seen from anyone else, she had never felt smaller. "This," he grabbed her arm and yanked the stained sleeve back up again, revealing her broken clock, "will get you killed. You hang around back there until the medics come and you can say goodbye to that pretty blond head of yours."

Tearing her hand back, Lucy rolled her sleeve down with shaking fingers. "What are you talking about? How could you know that?"

"Because," he held out his right arm and began to unwind a dirty white bandage from around his right forearm, "mine's broken, too."

The last of the bandage was peeled away, and the boy's motionless clock glared up in contrast against his tan skin. His was stuck transitioning from 12 seconds to 11, and she couldn't help herself from reaching out and lightly tracing the digits. Goosebumps rose up on his skin beneath her touch; she let her arm fall limp at her side. She swallowed, and her throat felt thick.

"What is this?" she asked.

He began to rewrap his arm, fingers moving with a deftness that only came from numerous times of repetitive practice with the task. "It happens when someone interrupts your timed death. Your death is supposed to be a fixed thing, and messin' with it freaks out your clock. It doesn't know your future anymore, so it shuts down."

"But I thought the clock was supposed to adjust based on your decisions. Shouldn't it just reset?"

He nodded. "Right, _your_ decisions. When someone saves you, it's not your decision—it's a decision that's been in place for your future since day one."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, if your clock was that low on time, you weren't supposed to've been saved."

She licked her chapped lips. "But you saved me."

His face was suddenly grim, eyes flat, lips spooled out into a straight, thin line. "I wasn't supposed to. I knew I wasn't. I shouldn't even exist according to the clock system, so of course me saving you would've messed with fate."

She could tell he was talking more to himself than to her—he wasn't even looking at her anymore. A hand was buried into his thick, pink locks, and the other rested on a hip. The muscles in his neck seemed tense, taut enough to snap at any moment.

"So then why didn't you just let me die?"

Something about her whispered words made him flinch, and he gave one last tug at his hair before letting his hand fall. He still wasn't looking at her.

"I don't know. I just couldn't." He groaned. "And now Erza is gonna kill me."

"Erza?"

Suddenly, a wide grin spread across his face, all signs of awkwardness from her previous question gone. "Yeah! You'll love her. But we gotta hurry if you wanna meet her, cause she's going on a job soon that could take _months_ —"

He had grabbed up her hand while he was speaking, but before he had the chance to move, she stole it back.

"Woah, woah, wait," she said, waving her arms about. "I appreciate you saving me and trying to look out for me and stuff, but I'm not going anywhere with you. My life is just starting to pick up, my editor said I have a bright future and—"

"I already told you, you don't have a future anymore."

That shut her up. She sealed her lips tight, crossing her arms over her chest. He scratched the back of his neck.

"Not the one that was originally designed for you, anyway," he continued. "You already lived that one out."

"So then that's it for me? I'm done? Time to give up living?"

He shook his head. "No, that's what I'm tryin' to tell you—you have a life left to live, and I can show you. There's a whole buncha us with broken clocks, hiding out so that we don't get caught. You can join us, ya know?"

"And if I don't?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, and the way he spoke said he honestly didn't. "Fairy Tail is all I've known since—" He waved his bandaged arm around in the air. "I guess you could try to live on your own around here, but you couldn't be you anymore. If anyone from the government found out you were still alive…."

He didn't need to finish. Based on what he was telling her earlier, she knew that being discovered with a broken clock would mean death. She didn't know the specifics just yet, nor did she know if this boy who had saved her was even telling the truth. But looking at the nonchalant way in which he stood, one hand twirling the ends of the scaled scarf he wore, head cocked slightly to the side as he considered her with wide, unguarded eyes, made her think he had no reason to lie to her. Why would he, when he was in the same position as her? She had seen the proof with her own eyes. Plus—for whatever reason it may be—he had saved her, and that was worth something.

Besides, what did she have in her life to go back to? She thought back to the moment before she died, and how she had nothing to even think about in those twenty-three seconds other than how clean the air was. That was what her life was. Empty. Nothing to show for. So would it really be all that bad to abandon it and take a chance on this stranger?

At this point, trusting him seemed like her best bet.

"Alright," she conceded, "I'll go with you." His face brightened, and she continued on before he could drag her off again. "On two conditions."

"Okay."

She placed a hand on her hip and held up a finger. "One, you tell me your name."

"That's easy." He grinned. "I'm Natsu Dragneel."

"Natsu," she tried, feeling the name bounce off her tongue before she nodded. "I'm Lucy Heartfilia."

His face suddenly contorted and he leaned forward, face inches away from hers. "Huh? Luigi?"

" _Lucy_." Her eye twitched, and she had to resist the urge to stomp on his foot.

"Ohhhh," he murmured, leaning back. His eyes roamed up and down her body, seeming to consider this. "I think Luigi suits ya better."

This time she did stomp on his foot.

"Condition number two," she continued, ignoring his moans of pain as he clutched his foot and hopped about on the other. "You have to carry me. I know you refuse to let me see a doctor, but my ankle got twisted when you pushed me out of the way and I can't really walk on it."

He groaned. "But you were so heavy—"

She didn't hesitate to stomp on his other foot.

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 **I hope you guys liked the second chapter! It's longer than the first one, but I didn't want to make it too long because I wanted to update asap for you guys.**

 _ **Thanks to all who reviewed: Zyrothe, nalubbys, Guest, gabergirl, , RandomMindzCrazyIdeas, Yeeellyy, Sara lovelymusic, Sunny Mars, unique, EddingsFan, CrimsonLightKey, Empress of Everything, and Guest.**_

 **Next chapter, we get more explanation on what it means for the clock to be broken, more explanation on the world that they live in, meeting the rest of Fairy Tail, and more likely than not, slight Nalu fluff!**

 **Don't forget to please review!**

 **-Jess**


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